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(*Begins with piano*)
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Buddy Slim] I declare war The joy becomes a rappifyin weapon If you step in When your draws get mobbed behind enemy lines You become a sittin duck but fuck I ain`t givin em livin trifle The pen and pad becomes a 12 gauge rifle This is no laughing matter Step into this you step in a minefield Your body`s scattered You people drop pickin up the pieces But only corny niggas The attack from a brotha like the Buddy never ceases Without a moment of silence the violence thickens So if you ain`t got it together you slim pickings Shorts and prisoners are never taken If you fakin all the booty competition I`m a bag fuck a white flag Get down and dirty like a brotha in the trench Leave a nigga dead and stinkin as he wonders what his stench is I`m bustin clip after clip My artillery will funk on the punk When ya wanna test my shit [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Breezly Brewin] Tell it to hell is it I feel my brain swell like meningitis With the slightest mind motion Givin me the notion That I got it bad I think I got a brain tumor Brain rumor Such a pain to analyze the strain and then understand it The seed was planted That shit is ill but still The thought I`m lovin got the dome growin With the biscuit in the oven Shovin nothin but the nutrients My diet to support me A whiff of the spliff A guzzle of the forty to inspire fire thought To the mic there was marriage Causin competition Verbal miscarriage of the mental fetus Greet us with the rugged rhythm then I`m showin I think I feel my water breakin thus I`m flowin Timin my contractions Concentratin on my breathin Heavin curses at the father he has the funk Cuz if I flunk my shit ain`t livin Pushin givin every bit of what I`m worth And as the Brewin drops the lyrical The miracle of birth [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Buddy Slim] I be the sick ass brotha, nasty ass nigga A phony motherfucker grave digga I know this sounds rough But I had enough to funk So part of me the heart of me So if you corny nigga It`s like cloggin up my artery You cuttin circulation So now it`s do or die While niggas always try to test my shit Only preservation of the funk is why I kick this As I give a simple diagnosis of the sickness [Breezly Brewin] Now upon the fruits of my labor Your ear feasts The beast from within It`s some shit ain`t it The picture painted From the use of a noun and a verb might disturb We make you say, "Damn that nigga`s crazy" Well if we crazed, deranged well then we fittin If you say the world`s a normal place Who the fuck you kiddin? Your mind`s blind if you say you haven`t seen this As I walk the fine line between insanity and genius [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] (*Fades out with piano*)
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